


Possession

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Classdressing, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper, a creature of sun and dirt, a beast and a hunter, is very possessive of what’s his.  Spy is his, and it is his right and duty to claim him as such.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

"Yer so bloody hot," Sniper growled, his eyes groping at every inch of his lover's body.

Lying beneath him, legs hooked on his slim hips, Spy writhed, lips parted, jaw hanging open, his breaths panting out of him in needful little puffs. Scarred, smooth skin undulated with each breath, each thrust, sheened with the lightest hint of sweat. He wore Sniper's work shirt, unbuttoned and rumpled, the assassin's akubra perched crookedly atop his head. His cheeks were flushed red, his eyes struggling to focus on the Australian atop him, inside him. Nails dragged down Sniper's back, digging in harder and harder as the taller man drove into his lover, deeper, faster, taking his pleasure and claiming his property.

Spy was his. His and only his. His clothes on the Frenchman drove him wild, a sign of possession, and he worked to stake that claim with his hips, pounding flesh to flesh, impaling him in an animal frenzy.

Sniper's grunts and the slapping of flesh were the only sounds audible in the small, rocking van, Spy nearly insensate from the furious invasion of his body. His lips moved uselessly as he tried and failed to construct sounds, the vocalizations dying out before they could pass his throat, seeping out of him in desperate breaths. He held onto Sniper for dear life, fearing he would slip into a coma were he to let go, his whole body shuddering with electric pulses, each thrust sending him tumbling into a void of pure sensation, numb to all but the perfect bliss the handsome bushman was inflicting upon him.

Snarling, vicious, Sniper claimed what was his, taking Spy as hard and fast as his body could muster. He wanted him, needed him, needed to bury himself deep inside the squirming creature beneath him and make him his. No one else had access to this treasure, could even glimpse the beauty and perfection he had the privilege of calling his own. The screwed-up mask of passion that contorted Spy's face interminably in a sort of rigor-grimace, the arched back, the trembling, quivering legs, that beautiful red flush that covered his chest and cheeks, it was all Sniper's to behold, Sniper's to enjoy, Sniper's to own.

Before he knew it, the bushman felt Spy's body clenching around him, legs going taut, pelvic floor spasming around his cock, nails dragging down his shoulders in elated paroxysms. Like a dam breaking, the Frenchman's voice burst forth from him in a strained, gasping cry, invoking God as he clawed at the object of his idolatry. With a growl, hungry and unrestrained, Sniper drove deep into Spy, relishing the quaking ripples of his lover's orgasm, and hissed, releasing his seed inside of him, filling him with his warmth.

Spy's body went slack as Sniper stalled, shivering as heat bloomed inside of him. His arms fell from around the taller man's shoulders, the hat flopping off of his head as it hit the pillow. His eyes rolled back in his head and he tried to catch his breath, his legs going limp and falling from Sniper's hips.

With a rough chuckle, the bushman pulled out of his exhausted lover, rolling off of him to lie at his side, wrapping long, hairy arms around the rogue and pulling him close. He buried his nose in Spy's moist, sweaty hair. "You smell so good, love."

A single puff of air carried a laugh from Spy's throat, a smile crawling across his lips. "I smell like sweat and sex."

"Exactly."


End file.
